Two Scars
by LGreymark
Summary: Harry's day turns from crap to worse when a broken portkey whisks him through not only time and space, but a dimensional barrier. What happens when a plot bunny gets a hold of me and won't let go.


Two Scars

-Insert Huffy Disclaimer Here-

AN: And now for something completely different. Ahhh I'd have put this in TPIIMM but I'm saving that for Harry Potter only fics, rather than crossovers. I never figured I'd write a crossover fic other than HP/Dark souls which I already have ~25K words down for that are unpublished. But after binging on Berserk for a couple of weeks I've been inspired to write this one shot. It might turn into more but I doubt it; I've already got plenty on my plate with three fanfics on the go and my own novel. So… enjoy, I guess.

-:-

Harry hated portkeys, had since he was fourteen years old, horrible nasty shitty ways to travel.

But this took the cake.

He had known something had gone horribly astray when the ex-Death-Eater's reductor had hit the portkey he was holding just as it whisked him away. His partner; Charles, had already evacuated the raid that had fallen apart because of misinformation. Just as Harry decided to get the hell out of dodge Dolohov had flicked a parting shot at his hand, and it had, impossibly, hit the minute medallion that acted as an auror's emergency portkey.

The magic of the translocation device felt wild and uncontrolled as he hurtled through a chaotic abyss. No longer being tugged along by his navel, but instead thrown, as if from an explosion.

Abruptly everything came to a halt and he smashed face first into cobblestone. Hermione would kill him, he'd smashed the new frames she'd given him for his most recent birthday, he'd turned twenty six.

Instantly his scar flared with pain and he panicked, was Voldemort here? Now?! Fixing the shattered glasses and his broken nose with two quick waves of his wand he scrambled around to look, only to realize he was smack in the middle of what looked like a paused battle. Horrific creatures made from bone and mottled flesh were frozen in what he could only assume was shock at his appearance, and terrified looking townsfolk wearing medieval garb were backing away from him, meagre weapons that they had brought to hand wavering in the grip of bloodied hands.

The spell that had fallen over the creatures broke without warning and they surged forwards, screeching obscenities at him, but before he had a chance to bring his wand to bear in his own defense an immense slab of iron slashed through the air and cut clean through a half dozen of the misshapen beasts. A rough voice, ragged from exertion, called to him.

"What are you waiting for? Run!"

Harry looked up to see an enormous bear of a man, standing easily as tall as Hagrid, but muscular rather than obese, bearing that self same slab of iron and wearing ancient battle armour. The giant of a man shouted again.

"Get out of here! This is no place for you, run back to safety. Go!"

Obedience was never one of Harry's traits, and he displayed that streak of contrarianism as he stood, wand in hand. Spitting blood from his mouth to one side he spoke as calmly as he could manage.

"I've seen worse."

-:-

Guts grunted in acceptance, he'd met plenty of the like before, ones who didn't know their own limits. Who fought every enemy they came across, to protect, to prove themselves, to feel alive.

He swung his sword again, revelling in the bite of it as it cut through another spirit of the dead, from beside him flickered out a light and, to his shock, it cut clean through another, before obliterating it completely. He looked sidelong at his new companion and his eyes widened in shock at the powerful aura surrounding the slight figure.

The newcomer brandished a stick and from it burst such a conflagration that Guts had to shield his eyes as it poured forth, devouring all in it's path until there was nothing left but ash. It existed for merely a second before it flared out of existence and left in it's wake piles of ash and charred metal.

"Who…?"

He let the word hang in the air as he tried to wrap his mind around the bespectacled figure. The man was wearing a thin breastplate, similar to those the Holy Iron Chain Knights used to wear, light and ill fitted for battle, but not ornamental, it was plain, utilitarian. It had clearly seen use by merit of the scratches across it's surface, but it appeared no more use than a gambeson.

Aside from that strange piece of armour the man wore outlandish clothing, straight trousers made from a thick linen, boots made from something that resembled snakeskin, but was iridescent black and looked thick enough to turn a sword. His shirt was white and made from heavy cotton, finally a thick woolen cloak lay across his shoulders. It was the garb of someone not of this world, and judging by his sudden appearance and strange skills, Guts could only conclude that he wasn't in fact from anywhere near midlands at all.

Even as he catalogued these strange sights the man cast his eyes to Guts with a curious expression. The newcomer stood perhaps a foot shorter than him, but Guts felt around him the same way he had about _him_ years and years ago, there was power there, power and ambition hiding behind those vibrant green eyes. It was as if they were standing level headed, eye to eye, such was the towering presence of the man's character.

"Harry Potter, and you?"

"Guts"

The lithe man raised an eyebrow at the gruff delivery but didn't comment, simply looking around at the devastation.

"What were they?"

-:-

Harry frowned at the scorched village, he didn't have much choice, there had been dozens of the creatures and he and this giant of a fighter would have been overwhelmed in moments if he'd not acted, nevermind the size of the man's sword. He regretted blasting to cinder such a hamlet as this though, those were people's homes.

"Demons."

Harry shivered, that was a word he hoped he'd never hear again. He reached up and touched his scar, the pain was gone but blood had dripped from it. That hadn't happened in years, Voldemort was dead, so… what the hell was going on?

Even as he considered this another, more poignant question presented itself.

"Where is this?"

The giant looked at him strangely for a moment before shaking his head.

"Midlands, or at least, what used to be midlands."

Where in the name of Merlin was midlands?

"What country? What continent?"

The giant looked at him even more strangely and repeated, slowly as if talking to a fool, or a child.

"Midlands."

Well wasn't that helpful.

"Where the hell did you come from?"

Only then did Harry start becoming truly concerned about the fact that he was apparently in a different, fucking, world.

-:-

Fin.

Just something short to get this out of my system. Again, might turn into something more, might not, don't hold your breath.


End file.
